Jump Don't be seen Don't fall
by SomeoneThatIsNotMe
Summary: Lydia has just found out her parents died. Again. Who killed them, and why are they coming after her too? And why does Lydia seem so familiar to Griffin when he meets her?


I wish my school burned down and all my teachers died. No really. It's the fourth time this week the teacher kept us in class long after the school bell had sounded. And I, of course, wanted to get good grades so I didn't interrupt the teacher while he was speaking, so now, thanks to my big schoolgirl heart, I had to walk home because I missed the bus. Little did I know that this occurence would save my life.

"Mom! Dad! I'm home!" I yelled as I sat down my backpack to dig into my pockets for my keys. I lifted the right key to the lock but I saw the lock was cracked, and the door was already open.

"Mom?" I asked once more, when I again got no response I opened the door and peeked into the hallway. What I saw wasn't nice. The coat rack had been thrown on the floor and the drawings I had made when I was just a little kid that my foster parents had framed ages ago where lying on the floor, ripped of their nails on the wall. I stepped into the hallway, carefully avoiding the pieces of glass, that had broken from the frames. What had happened? I picked up a drawing of a beach, me and my foster parents went there a lot when I was little, because it was the place where I had lived when my real parents were still alive, but we had stopped going there when my foster dad got a new job, that took up more of his time.

As I remembered the salty waves and the lovely wind I carefully folded the drawing in half and put it in my pocket.

I wanted to open the door to the living room but was scared of what I might find. Had someone broken in, in broad daylight, while my mom was at home? Or had my dad come home angry, because something had happened at work? I lay my ear against the livingroom door. Not a sound. Whoever had come in here, whether it was a criminal or my parents, they where long gone. I opened the door without hesitating.

Oh, how I wish I hadn't opened that door.

...

I ran up the stairs to my room quickly, tears dripping down my face. I ran into my room after checking if anyone was in there. I emptied the contents of my backpack on the floor, without bothering if any of my homework would get lost. I wouldn't need my homework anymore after today. I had to run.

I grabbed my laptop from where it lay on my desk, smothering a sob that escaped my mouth, and took the first clothes that I could find with me and put it all in my bag. I snatched my old wallet out from under my bed, it had to have at least enough money in it to provide me with food and other necessities for a few days. I could go into the kitchen and look for more money, I knew my parents kept some in one of the cabinets but then I would have to walk trough the living room again. I don't think I could bear to see that sight again. The sight in wich both my foster parents lay on the ground, their throats slid, blood coating the carpet a dull, red colour. I shuddered. I had to leave now.

...

I was walking along the beach with the groceries I had just bought. I didn't want to take the normal route, through the streets of Biarritz, partly because I liked feeling the sand below my feet and partly because I wasn't feeling like people constantly asking me if I was okay, because I was still a bit shaky, maybe they could see on my face I had just done something I hadn't done in a long time. It was like biking. You never forget how, but when you haven't done it for a few years, and then suddenly you have to bike all the way to another city, you can't do it like you used to. It was what I felt like in that moment. Like a little girl, biking all the way to a place she went to a long, long time ago, running away from her fears. Well, actually, she had faced one of them already. She had jumped. I was a bit paranoid at first, thinking someone would notice I had just appeared out of thin air, or the person who killed my foster parents standing behind every corner I turned, trying to hurt me because I happened to have the gift of jumping. I was convinced it was a gift at least, my mom wasn't. My real mother, I mean. She made me promise I would never jump again when she caught me trying to jump somewhere when I was (seemingly) alone in my room. Now I had broken my promise. I had tried to keep it for as long as possible, but it didn't really mean anything to me anymore, because she and my dad had left me a long time ago.

Well, it wouldn't matter now if I broke my promise just one more time, wouldn't it?

* * *

A/N: Hi! Thank you for reading the first chapter of my new story! I'm sorry for any mistakes that might be in the story, it's because English isn't my first language. If you see any grammar mistakes, tell me please! Reviews make me happy :)


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